


From the Veil

by purbish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon timelines? Never heard of them, Multi, Yami's dragged into Yet Another War, just let him die already, shadow magic and wizard magic Don't Mix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purbish/pseuds/purbish
Summary: The afterlife keeps a close count on the number of souls it is supposed to have. So when one is forced through the Veil, it has no choice but to send another to replace it. But how will the people on the outside react to Atem's appearance? What will happen to those back in Japan? And what does this all have to do with Lord Moldyshorts?





	1. Life, Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was the 2nd fic I ever wrote, and though I might come back and revisit the concept, I'd redo a whole lot of it. There's a lot of problems with it, but hey, I still like it

In a strange way, it was beautiful.

He'd never imagined he would call death beautiful, but that was the only way to describe this suicidal walk. White light, the very purest kind, washed over him, enveloping him, drowning him, smothering him, dragging him down into the very depths of the afterlife. He was dying, and loved every minute of it.

After all, he had already died three thousand years ago.

As he continued walking, sensations dulling with every step, he felt a little regretful about leaving Yugi behind. He reassured himself with the fact that Yugi had his loyal friends supporting him. He didn't need a ghost to stand up for him anymore. (In another, stranger way, he never did.)

He would miss Yugi, yes, but he would have his long-lost friends and family, and that made up for the loss of his lighter half. And one day, hopefully in a far, distant future, Yugi would join him, and he would be complete once more.

As he continued on - was he even walking anymore? He didn't know - he was sure that he would see his Egyptian friends ahead of him any time now. He had never been one to blindly trust, but this he knew, because his skin was tanned and adorned with gold, even if he couldn't feel it anymore.

(He was already dead.)

…

He went on.

…

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he went on.

…

Then, ahead of him in the light, he made out a crumbling archway. It was ancient-looking, although he had learned to never assume things by their appearance, and a worn, white veil hung over it. The veil was completely still, which was odd, but he supposed that the archway must have been stronger than it looked.

Some part of him wished to enter the archway, but he knew he wasn't supposed to, (his friends would be just around the next bend, he deserved his rest after three thousand years), but to his horror, he found that he was approaching it, and could not stop. He mentally struggled against it, but he couldn't feel anything either, and the archway loomed closer, and he saw that the archway was much larger than it had initially appeared.

The white veil was closer, coming close, close, right in front of his face and horror freezing his soul, he stumbled through it, and he was -

-alive.

The world swirled around him and he shut his eyes tightly closed, clenching his fists to block the pure pain that raced through his skin. It seared like fire, a burning fire that was cold and light and calm, and ran to the tips of his spiky hair. Spots of light danced before his eyes, and he stumbled forwards, feet slipping on a stone floor.

There was a yell, and shouts of surprise, although he couldn't hear them, and a voice called out something strange, his world swirled into darkness, and he unconsciously crumpled to the floor.

* * *

Remus Lupin gasped, unconsciously letting go of Harry. Sirius had just fallen through the Veil. That wasn't what had made him gasp, though. Oblivious to whatever had shocked Remus, Harry raced off to get revenge on Bellatrix, who he believed had just killed his godfather. Remus stood there for a couple more seconds, what he had just seen still trying to get through his brain.

Someone had just come through the Veil.

It wasn't Sirius, that was for sure. That was what Remus had first thought when he saw the shadow behind the cloth. Surely it was Sirius, coming back to help defeat the Death Eaters. No. It wasn't. He was gone, and was never coming back. Who was it, though?

Whoever it was looked very beautiful. The first thing Remus noticed about him was his hair. The main part of it was charcoal-black and was fringed by red that faded into purple. It stood up in a star shape that seemed impossible without bottles of gel, but he could tell by the way the light shone on it that it was natural. Golden spikes shot up into the three main points, while his face was framed by golden bangs.

The next thing Remus noticed was his attire. A creamy cotton tunic framed his body, with a blue sash around his waist and a crimson red cloak draped across his shoulders. He wore enough gold jewelry to ransom a king four times over. The main piece, though, seemed to be an upside-down pyramid with the Eye of Horus in the center. Egyptian, then. A royal, too, based on the expensive quality of his clothing.

After getting over his hair and clothes, Remus then noticed the man's face. It held a look of shock and pain, but underneath was weariness and regality. The sharp but smooth angles of his face and the kindness that seemed to sweep off him in waves made an interesting combination. His skin was tan. Not the beach tan one gets from going on vacation, but the pure, dark, Egyptian tan. Slightly muscled arms ended in long, graceful fingers. Power seemed to be draped around him like the cloak he wore, but Remus knew instantly this man was not one to abuse this power. This would be the type of man to use it to see his people to a better future. Remus had stared, not realizing Harry had rushed off to get his revenge. He had stared at this man who had so suddenly appeared.

At least until the strange man slipped and fell.

Quickly, Remus rushed forward to help. As he came closer, he noticed a few things. The first was that the man was twitching as if in a nightmare. The second was that he was muttering under his breath in a foreign language that seemed somehow familiar. The last was that now Remus was closer, and the man was unconscious, he seemed much younger. His posture, face, and the general attitude he radiated had made him seem much older. Now that he was asleep, it could be seen that his body was young. He couldn't have been more than 17 years old.

The man's face screwed up in pain and he cried out. What was going on? Where was he hurt? Quickly Remus picked him up. He had to get the newcomer to Dumbledore. The headmaster would know what to do. He looked around. Everyone else had followed the fight--and Harry--upstairs. That was where Dumbledore would be.

The Shadows hissed in pleasure as Remus carried their master upstairs. He had truly returned, and now it was time for them to return also.


	2. Waking Up

**Key** : / _ mind link _ /  " _ Ancient Egyptian"   _ "English"

* * *

The instant Atem was even slightly awake he knew something was wrong. Why was he in control of the body? Where was Yugi? His hand flopped to his chest, looking for the Puzzle that had been his prison for so long.

...

He couldn't find it.

Atem started to panic slightly.  _ /Aibou?/ _ he called out in his mind. There was no answer. Only the echo of an empty mind, one devoid of any kind of mind link. Oh no. What had happened to Yugi? Where was he?!

Completely awake now, Atem shot up in bed. His eyes met white walls, and the memories of his 'death' came back. The long walk. The ancient archway and white veil. The sudden feeling of life. The instant, overwhelming pain. His blackout. Atem relaxed, sighing in relief. Yugi was fine. He had been successful in sending him to the afterlife. Although, for some reason, the afterlife rejected him. Why…?

Atem glanced around at his surroundings, wondering where he was now he was reassured Yugi wasn’t in imminent danger. It was a large room. Beds lined the walls from one end to the other. The walls themselves were a sterile white. Light filtered in through the windows and made the walls shine brilliantly, almost blindingly, like the afterlife had been. Well, like the path to the afterlife, anyway.

Looking around his more immediate surroundings, he saw a pile of clothes on the table next to him, the clothes he had worn in his days of being a pharaoh. When he glanced down at what he was wearing, he saw nothing but a simple cream robe. What surprised him was the color of his skin. It was different from Yugi’s, colored more like how he had been as a Pharaoh.  To the left of him was a mirror. Quickly Atem got out of his bed to get a glimpse at what he looked like. He nearly fell flat on his face. It seemed his body wasn't quite recovered yet.

What he saw in the mirror didn't surprise him. He really was alive, and it seemed that his new body looked like his old one did before he died thousands of years ago. His face was tanned much like his arms. His crimson eyes were outlined in kohl after the manner of the pharaohs. They narrowed slightly. How was he alive? That wasn't even the big question, either. WHY was he alive? Was he going to be rejected access to the afterlife, to his friends and family, time and time again? He sighed, placing one hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. Fate was cruel sometimes.

"Get rid of that absurd hair!" Atem nearly toppled over backwards in shock. Who...

"Yes, you! Your hair is ridiculous! And do something about that eye color!" Atem's eyes widened as he realized it was the mirror who was talking to him. What kind of new technology was this?

"Ah. I see you're awake." A sharp female voice came from the left. His head jerked on that direction. On the other side of his bed was an office door. So that's where this lady came from.

His eyes turned to the speaker. She was a wrinkled lady, perhaps in her fifties. She had the air of a strict, no-nonsense person. He wondered who she was. Well, this did look like a hospital. A nurse, maybe?

"I am Nurse Pomfrey." Ah. He had guessed right. "You've been in bed for quite a while. How are you feeling?"

" _ Where am I, how did I get here, and how long have I been unconscious? _ " Atem paid no regard to the questions she asked. He was in need of answers.

Nurse Pomfrey looked extremely confused. "I apologize. I don't understand whatever language you're speaking. Do you know English?"

Atem frowned. He could understand her English perfectly for some reason, but he apparently hadn't spoken it. What language had he spoken? Oh. His cheeks reddened slightly as he realized he had spoken Ancient Egyptian. Frantically, he tried to remember the few lessons Yugi had on English that he had bothered to listen to.

"I... ah… speak English... not good? Speak Japanese and Arabic." Well, those were his main languages, anyway. He doubted she would speak Ancient Egyptian, and he saw no need to mention Babylonian, Hebrew, and the many others he had needed to reign.

Nurse Pomfrey frowned. "That's going to be a problem. Do you know how to write?" Atem nodded, slightly insulted by the question. She took a piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle out of her robe and proffered it to him. Curious, he took it. What sort of people used parchment and quills these days? Pens were so much more convenient.

"I need you to write down every little thing that seems out of place or different with your body than is considered normal. Everything."

Atem smirked. What should he start with first? Well, she probably wasn't looking for 'alive,' but he'd include that one anyway. He could feel, smell, touch, hear, everything that a dead person wasn't supposed to be able to do. In order to shorten the list, he simply put down 'not dead.' There. Oh, he should probably put down 'a little tired.' That was probably along the lines of what she actually needed, anyway.

Finishing the last line of his windswept kanji, he handed the paper back with a flourish. She took it, and without even glancing at the writing it held, took out a wooden stick not more than a foot long. Quickly she tapped it to the parchment, muttering something Atem didn't quite catch. He stood up from his position on his bed where he had sat to write and gaped at what was happening on the paper. The lines of his kanji were wriggling apart and moving across the page to form new words and letters, these ones distinctly English.

How in the world had she- Magic. Definitely magic. But it was no type of magic he had ever seen before. Where were the shadows? He couldn't see them, but they could be invisible when they wanted, anyway. The main thing was that he couldn't feel them. He had lived in the shadows for so long he had developed almost a sixth sense for when they were being used. They weren't in these circumstances. Then how...?

Nurse Pomfrey took a quick glance down the short list. 'A little tired' she had expected. But something was wrong with this man. Why would he include 'alive' and 'not dead' on his list of problems?

"Nurse Pomfrey?" a new voice spoke from the main doorway. Atem looked up from the paper where he was trying to figure out this new magic. An old man stood in the doorway. He wore robes and a pointed hat, and a silver beard trailed down from his chin to his waist. Crimson eyes met blue as they inspected each other.

"So, I assume you're the the man who came through the Veil?" Atem was silent for a moment. Finally, he nodded. This man seemed good. Of course, he wouldn't fully trust him. There were too many secrets hidden in those eyes. Still, the man seemed like one to only hold secrets until the people they were kept from were ready to hear them.

"Professor Dumbledore! Thank goodness you're here." Nurse Pomfrey rushed over to the old man. So his name was Dumbledore. Queer name. "This man doesn't speak English, so I had him write down everything that seemed off. I used 'Transiato,' and look at what he wrote! 'Alive?' 'Not dead?' What does this mean?" Anxiously she gazed at Dumbledore, looking for an answer.

"I believe he means exactly what he wrote." Nurse Pomfrey opened her mouth as if to ask him to clarify a bit more, but he held up a hand to silence her. "Did he say what languages he spoke?"

"Yes. He said... um… Arabic. Oh, and Japanese."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Japanese? I expected the Arabic, but the Japanese is unusual. Young man, do you speak Egyptian?"

Atem smirked and nodded once more. Of course he had guessed. Well, it's not like his deep tan and the style of his clothes on the table beside him suggested anything different.

"Wonderful. I know a little bit. Not enough to speak it clearly, but enough to understand what you say. I take it you can understand what English I speak?"

" _ Yes, I can. To repeat my earlier questions, where am I, how did I get here, and how long was I unconscious? _ " Atem got straight to the point.

"Would you mind telling me who you are first? It will help me answer your questions so you'll understand them the best."

He had a point there, Atem conceded. " _ I am Atem, son to Pharaoh Akanhamon and cousin to Priest Seto, also known as Pharaoh Seto. I was also a pharaoh in my time. I sacrificed my name, soul, and memories to seal away the Dark God Zorc Necrophades, thus earning the title 'Nameless Pharaoh,' by which people today know me better. _ " Wow, talk about a dramatic introduction. Bakura would have been proud.

Dumbledore leaned closer. "Are you really? Forgive me if I don't believe you right away. Do you have a form of proof?"

Atem snorted. He folded his arm, crossed one leg over the other, and flicked his crimson eyes up at his hair. There wasn't much more solid proof than that. Besides, the only other evidence he would have had was the Millennium Puzzle, and that should be deep within the tombs of Egypt by now.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Point taken. I'll answer the easiest question first. You have been sleeping for three days. As for where you are, you are in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school for magic."

" _ Speaking of magic, _ " Atem interrupted, " _ What kind of magic is this? I have never seen anything like it before. _ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Puzzle *is* back, just confiscated by Dumbledore because it feels really dark because of the energies of the Shadows coming from it


	3. TKB

It was dark in Domino City, Japan. Everyone was asleep aside from the few businessmen here and there. Not everyone was sleeping restfully, though.

In one of Domino’s more modest apartments, a young teen tossed and turned. His white hair grew more and more mussed as he tried to find the right sleeping position. Worry creases appeared in his pale forehead as he mumbled in his sleep.

A soft yet harsh golden glow filled the room, surprisingly not waking it’s inhabitant. The source was a sort of pendant, obviously Egyptian in nature. The pendant, which had not been there before, coalesced from the golden glow and landed on the pillow beside the teen. Pale fingers wrapped around the shiny Item and their owner quieted. Sharp golden spikes lifted up and pointed towards a single point in Scotland before falling to the pillow, glow gone at last.

* * *

Ryou yawned and stretched, still tired after his long night. Mid-morning sunlight filtered in through his slightly grimy window. He groaned internally at the sight. He had been so out of it lately. His new job must be taking more out of him than he thought, if he hadn’t had time to clean.

He yawned again and attempted to run his fingers through his hair. Wincing, he quickly untangled them from the bird’s nest that covered his head. _Oh, joy_ , he thought, groaning. _This is going to take a while to sort out_. Grumbling just slightly, Ryou headed towards the bathroom. He turned his head in the mirror, trying to see how bad it was. That was when he saw it.

_No! No! Oh gosh, no!_

Ryou’s hand flew to the back of his head, fingering the gold nestled tightly in it. He felt the familiar spikes, the perfect circle, and the triangle with the Eye of Horus in the middle.

It _couldn’t_ be!

But it was.

Ryou grabbed ahold of one of the spikes and attempted to detangle it from his hair. He had no such luck. This was a job that required someone with a better view of the back of his head. Dang it all. Well, at least he knew who to call.

* * *

“Yugi, grab the phone, will you?” Yugi looked up from the shelves he was currently restocking. “Sure, Grandpa!” he replied. Setting down the booster packs, Yugi quickly picked up the phone. “Kame Game Shop, how can I help you?”

_“Yugi?”_

“Ryou, hi! I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

_“Yugi, I need your help. I woke up this morning with something tangled in my hair and I can’t get it out.”_

Yugi laughed. This wasn’t the first time something had gotten caught in his friend’s bushy mane. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

 _“Yugi, wait.”_ Yugi paused. _“There‘s one more thing I need to tell you. The thing that’s tangled in my hair… It’s the Ring.”_

Yugi slowly lowered the phone from his ear. But… the Ring was buried. In Egypt! There was no way it could have come back! Was there?

Yes. Yes there was.

Quickly, Yugi put the phone back on the receiver, grabbed his jacket, and raced out the door. There was only one thing going through his mind as he ran to his friend’s house, because he knew Ryou wouldn’t lie. Not about this. That one thing was _how?_

* * *

There was a click on the other end of the line as Yugi hung up. Ryou sighed. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good. Fate just couldn’t let them have a break for long, could it? He was actually surprised they’d been allotted two whole years to recover. But then again, two years was a pretty short time.

Two years hadn’t even _started_ to dull the pain of his friends. Ryou wasn’t as affected by the loss of Atem as the others were, but he had also known him for the shortest amount of time. Most of that part of his life had been filled with blackouts where the Spirit decided to lock him in his soul room and run off with his body. It hadn’t been a happy existence, and Ryou doubted if there’d ever be a chance to repay Atem for freeing him.

Now Ryou was starting to question the wisdom of calling Yugi. After all, if there was anyone who deserved a longer break, it was him. He had undoubtedly been the one closest to Atem. Ryou could only imagine the depths of their bond, and even then probably wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Yugi was the one who was still grieving the most, the one who two years hadn’t even had an effect on yet. Sure, he hid it beneath a mask of happiness. but everyone could clearly see the pain was still there.

On the other hand, Yugi was the one most entitled to know if the Items, and possibly the Pharaoh, were back.

A knock at the door startled Ryou out of his reverie. He hurried over to unlock it and let Yugi in. His short friend was panting as if he’d run the whole way there. Actually, he probably had. Once Yugi had entered, Ryou shut and locked the door once more. Turning around, he winced at the awful state his home was in. He _really_ needed to do some cleaning.

Ryou proceeded to lead Yugi to the bathroom. Sitting on a stool, he turned so the back of his head was visible. He heard a gasp and cringed. He couldn’t quite believe it either. Anxiously he waited for Yugi to speak.

“...Well… It’s definitely the real thing.”

“But what does that mean?” Ryou whimpered, memories of his past coming unbidden to his mind.

“I don’t know, Ryou.” Yugi’s voice was barely a whisper as he started to slowly unravel the knots on Ryou’s head. “I really don’t know.”


	4. Meeting Harry

Atem leaned up against the far wall in his borrowed room in the Burrow, its stark solidity proof that this was in fact reality, and not simply a dream. He chuckled darkly to himself. Oh, how foolish he had been to assume that the craziness that had plagued his existence would simply go away as soon as he entered the door to the afterlife. Wrong. And if experience was anything to go by, somewhere out there was a villain who wanted vengeance on him for one reason or another. 

A wearied sigh passed through his lips. He hadn’t even  _ started _ to think about the Shadow Realm. He had no doubt it was back, although it should’ve been sealed away long ago. But  _ why _ was it back? Why was  _ he _ back? He had already defeated Zorc, already finished what had been started so many years ago. What more was fate going to ask of him?

Atem shook himself out of his dark thoughts and gazed around the room. At least he  _ had _ a room, food to eat, and a place to sleep. The Weasleys were kind enough to take him in even though their lack of money and many other responsibilities certainly made it difficult. He should be thinking about the present and how things affected him in the moment, not worrying about inevitable future conflicts.

“Speaking of the present,” he muttered to himself, “My throat is dry.” It had been a while since he had felt that. Not that Yugi hadn’t gotten thirsty, but Atem had never really felt the full strength of a dry throat since he wasn’t the original owner of the body. Still, he felt it now, and he needed to get a drink. 

As he was walking down the stairs, he noticed a light coming from the direction of the kitchen. Was Mrs. Weasley still awake? Hopefully the language potion he had taken earlier in the day hadn’t worn off as he slept. As he emerged, blinking, into the light (it had been dark upstairs), he noticed another person sitting at the table. 

“...Scrimgeour has been pushing us really hard, and everyone in the office has just been so down lately. I reckon it’s the dementors--Oh, hello. Who’s this?” The woman’s bubblegum pink hair bounced slightly as her head swung around to look at Atem. “Blimey, that’s some wicked hair you’ve got there.”

Atem opened his mouth to introduce himself, but Mrs. Weasley beat him to it. “Tonks, this is Yami. He’s the one that came from… y’know…” she trailed off, a distressed expression on her face. Apparently whatever circumstances had surrounded his emergence hadn’t been good. Dumbledore hadn’t gone into much detail about it, instead focusing on what he needed to know. “But anyway,” she shook her head, releasing the bad memories. “Is there anything you need, dear?”

“Yes, actually.” Atem blinked. The new language was still unfamiliar on his tongue. “I was hoping I could get a drink.” 

“Of course!” Mrs. Weasley took out her wand and summoned a cup. “What would you like? Milk? Tea?”

“Just water, please,” he said, sitting across from the two women. Mrs. Weasley made another motion with her wand and handed the cup across the table. Atem took a sip of the refreshing liquid, marveling at the fact that, although she hadn’t moved an inch from her spot, the cup was full to the brim. 

“Honestly,” Mrs. Weasley continued, “I’m surprised that you slept until now. I mean, Dumbledore said you’d been asleep in the Hospital Wing ever since you arrived here. I guess learning about magic was really tiring, wasn’t it? I’ve heard from several teachers that muggleborns usually sleep well after their first time hearing about it.” Atem nodded, glad he was spared from trying to think of an explanation.

The trio sat in silence for a time before there came a knock at the back door. Mrs. Weasley stood up with a jolt, suddenly nervous.

“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky. “Declare yourself!”

The reply, though a bit muffled from travelling through the door, was quite clear. “It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry.”

Mrs. Weasley opened the door at once, staring in relief at the newcomers. “Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me quite a fright! You said not to expect you until morning!” 

“We were lucky,” explained Dumbledore while entering. “Slughorn proved to be much more persuadable than I had anticipated. All Harry’s doing, of course.” At the last bit he nodded towards the teen who had just stepped into the house.

Atem gazed at Harry. So this was the boy who had supposedly done so much for the world. He looked so young, like he wasn’t ready to face danger. No...scratch that last bit. It was very easy to tell that the boy was trained to react to any sign of danger based on the way he moved.

“Well, I’d better be going,” Tonks said abruptly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. “Thanks for the tea, Molly.” She pushed past Dumbledore and walked into the yard, turning on the spot and vanishing into thin air.

Dumbledore watched her go before turning back to Mrs. Weasley. “Molly, my dear, I’m afraid I cannot stay either. I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour and must be off.” He turned to Harry, a twinkle in his eye. “I shall see you at Hogwarts. Take care of yourself.” He then walked out of the house, vanishing at precisely the same spot Tonks had. Mrs. Weasley closed the door on an empty yard and then steered Harry by his shoulders into the full glow of the lantern to examine his appearance.

“You’re just like Ron,” she sighed. “I swear he’s grown at least four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry? Go ahead and sit down, I’ll whip something up.”

Harry sat, finally noticing Atem for the first time. As he stared across the table, Atem noticed the stare was a calculating one. He seemed to be gauging how dangerous he was. That was not the action of an everyday schoolboy. Harry had obviously been through many battles and learned to stay attentive to his surroundings because of them. Atem took another sip of water from his glass, not breaking eye contact until he suddenly felt something warm and fuzzy plop onto his lap. 

“Oh,” he murmured, looking down. It was a long haired ginger cat with a squashed face, and it promptly settled on his lap and started purring. Smiling, he began to stroke it. Atem adored cats. He did get lightly teased by his friends for it, but they were such interesting creatures! They depended on people for their food, and yet at the same time remained totally independant.

He was startled out of his musings by an object flying towards him in his peripheral vision. Oh, it was just a pot full of soup. Hot soup that nearly spilled all over the table before Mrs. Weasley caught it in a bowl that she placed before Harry. 

“Bread, dear? 

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Do you need anything else, Yami?”

“Ah, no, thank you.” Atem stood up, forcing the persian off of his lap. It let out a small hiss before jumping onto Harry’s legs. “I’m still a bit tired, I should probably go back to sleep. But thank you for the water.” With that, he excused himself from the table and proceeded upstairs. He wasn’t tired, of course, and he was sure Harry had a lot of questions about him, but he didn’t want to be the one answering them. Once again in his dark, borrowed room, he sighed.

He wondered what troubles life would give him this time.


	5. Magics Don't Mix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unfinished, just consisting of what I'd written of it so far.

Atem was harshly awakened by a pain that shocked him to his very core. Gasping, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. This wasn’t any ordinary sort of pain. This was the type of pain that affected the soul. It felt like someone was tearing at his very being, ripping through his mental barriers to reach the secrets kept within. It seemed to last ages, but finally subsided enough to allow him to stand. Instinctively following the trail of residual magic, he staggered down the corridor as fast as he could, praying that it wouldn’t start again before he reached the magic’s root. 

As he turned a corner and neared the source, the pain began once again. However, something even more frightening began to arise. Angered by their master’s pain, the shadows bubbled up, threatening to break free from his control and destroy everything around him. Straining to keep them under control, his pace slowed to a snail’s crawl. Suddenly, the magic trail turned and led into a closed room. Gasping in pain, Atem grabbed the handle, feeling a little buzz in his hand before the doorknob turned, and quite literally stumbled upon Dumbledore and a couple of other wizards. 

His vision going fuzzy and half his mind concentrated on keeping the shadows down, Atem tripped over several objects before reaching the Puzzle that sat on a small table in the center of the room. He grabbed it and pulled it close to his chest, vaguely noticing the fact that there were others in the room. Giving the shadows one last mental shove, he blacked out on the floor.

* * *

The first thing Atem registered when he woke up was his massive headache. Still slightly woozy and having trouble thinking, he drifted in and out of consciousness, barely registering the heated debate going on around him. 

“…just a child, Alestor!”

“…an incredibly dark item! He’s…”

“…doesn’t matter! He’s still…”

“…locked door…walked right in!”

“Alestor!…”

“…should be chained up…damn thing melted down…”

“Molly. Alestor. Maybe…few questions…”

“Ennervate.” 

Atem gasped as…something…hit him in the chest. It felt hard and yet soft, like an invisible hand grabbing his soul and pulling him into wakefulness. The shadows writhed and thrashed, yearning to break free and attack who dared touch their master’s soul, but Atem kept his hold on them. Whatever this new magic was, the shadows certainly didn't like it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Atem's still deeply connected to the Puzzle and the wizards' probing hurt because it's basically a direct path to his soul and "gentle" isn't one of Dumbledore's many middle names. He has them call him Yami because his name was the key to the shadows and he's not sure what powers it still holds so he hides it. He's gotta come a bit clean here but obvs isn't gonna give everything away.
> 
> If anyone wants to play with this story and/or this idea, just message me!


End file.
